The Offer
by meinterrupted
Summary: After four years of working as a hacker and a thief, Jack receives a job offer she can't refuse.
1. Chapter 1

The metal door of the safe was cool against Jack's cheek. With her right hand she spun the dial slowly, listening for the tell-tale click with her ears and the tips of her fingers. Her eyes were nearly closed—she said it helped her listen better—but under her lids she watched her partner across the room. His gun was out, his finger on the trigger, but he was clearly nervous. Jack made a mental note to find a different trigger man next time, one that wasn't so twitchy.

After a few more seconds, the lock opened with a soft click. Jack moved back, so smooth her partner didn't even notice. Another point against him, she thought. The safe was old, but well used, and the hinges didn't make a sound as she eased it open. The dark room made it difficult to see what was inside, so she raised her tiny penlight and clicked it on. The sound caused her partner to jump. Idiot, she thought to herself, sending him a nasty glare. He had the decency to look sheepish.

She ignored the gaudy jewelry and stacks of cred chips in the main part of the safe and reached back to the back wall. She aimed the light toward the wall and traced the line of the hidden compartment. Jack bit her lip as she tried to see where the compartment opened. A soft shuffling made her aware that her partner was getting restless, but she couldn't be rushed right now. The actual safe might be old, but this compartment was new. She closed her eyes and felt the crack where it separated from the wall, fingers questing for any small variation in the metal. She'd nearly given up when she noticed a small switch, one that would have been invisible to her naked eye. Jack opened her eyes and wedged her fingernail under the switch, flicking it open with a hard flick. The pneumatic lock opened with a soft whoosh of air, and she aimed her light at the dark square and the single item inside. Pocketing it without a sound, she shut the inner safe and reengaged the lock.

Her partner was staring at her as she shut the door and spun the dial. She raised both eyebrows and used two fingers to point to the door. He nodded and raised his gun, using it to lead the way out of the house. They made it out without any problems and Jack smiled to herself. The hack of the Senator's security system was one of her finest: even the vid feeds would look as if no one had been there. Even one guard dog would have made their job much more difficult, but Jack had found that rich people were far too dependent on their electronic security to think about its faults.

They walked down the sidewalk, looking for all the world like a pair of well-off teenagers out for a late-night pleasure stroll. Her partner's gun was concealed under an expensive, stylish jacket. Jack had hidden a large knife in the small of her back, tucked into the waistband of a pair of very expensive jeans, along with two other, smaller knives elsewhere. Their fingers intertwined in a semblance of young love. A few blocks from their mark's house, Jack slipped behind the wheel of a luxury sports car and drove the pair of them away from the ritzy neighborhood of Twelve Pines and toward the city's ghetto.

Jack navigated the narrow backstreets of the city and slid the sports car into an underground parking structure. Careful now, one of her previously hidden knives hidden against her wrist, the pair made their way up the stairs to a disreputable office. Jack knocked on the door, then barged in without waiting for an answer. "We got it," she said without preamble.

The man behind the desk was large—not fat, but large. John Fleming stood 6'7", and at one time he'd had the build of a pro athlete. Since then, he'd gone soft, his muscle turned to fat. One hand could easily envelope both of Jack's, which made him great for intimidation and muscle, but shit for anything involving stealth. A few of his crew, mostly of low-level hoodlums and a few teenagers that had nothing else going for them, lounged in sofas and beanbag chairs scattered around the room. Jack ignored them all and walked straight up to the desk and dropped her bag on it. "Now, where's my money, John-boy?"

John reached for the bag, but Jack tugged it closer. "I just want to see the merchandise first, my girl." Jack raised her eyebrows. "Fine." John raised his hands in surrender. "I trust you, Jackie." Jack sneered at the diminutive, but didn't say anything. John may have looked like a big, stupid man, but she knew he was anything but. He unlocked the right-hand drawer of his desk and pulled out a cred chip. He looked at it closely for a second, then tossed it toward Jack. She snapped it up, and ran it through the cred tracker on her wrist. The agreed-upon number popped up, and she reached into her bag and tossed him the data square. John smiled greedily and grabbed it. "Did you have any trouble?"

Jack was already halfway across the room. "None," she said. "But you ought to find someone a little less twitchy to be my partner next time," she threw out in passing, letting her partner alone to explain that tidbit to his boss.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack's apartment wasn't too far from John's office, a tiny studio in a cheap brick building. The building's security was sorely lacking, but it was nondescript and they didn't care that she'd made a few modifications of her own. The keypad was just a decoy, and she flipped it open to reveal a retinal scanner underneath. She ducked down and let the laser match the pattern of blood vessels in her eye to the one on record. The lock snicked opened and Jack dropped the cover, hiding the scanner from prying eyes.

As soon as she was inside, she locked the door behind her and looked around. Nothing was moved, not even the swivel chair in front of the bank of monitors that covered one whole wall. She checked the lock on the window out of habit; as soon as she'd moved in, she'd nailed it shut. She'd only lived with Riddick for a year, but his habits were as ingrained in her as if she'd been doing this from birth.

The only other furniture in the room was a beat-up futon that served as both seating and bed, and the desk that held her computer equipment. She settled into the swivel chair and started typing.

It was a ritual for her now: as soon as she completed a job, she transferred the creds into one of several anonymous, numbered accounts in as different systems. She couldn't use her own name, not since the press ran the story of a young runaway caught in the company of one Richard B. Riddick. Jacqueline Aubrey Toussaint was officially dead; Jack had seen to that as one of her first big hacks. Now twenty, she was one of the premiere hackers in this sector, and a damned good safecracker and pickpocket to boot. The skills complemented each other in the underworld, since she could easily disable most security systems long before stepping foot in any building.

The cred-transfer only took a moment. Jack checked her balances; after some quick mental math, she smiled. This last job had pushed her over the amount she was aiming for. She now had enough to buy passage on a ship to get her off this god-forsaken rock on which she'd spent four long years, with more than enough left over to live on. She glanced over at her right monitor. On it, words scrolled by too fast for her to read, as it scoured the networks—both legitimate and not—for any sightings of Riddick.

A beep indicated she had a new message. Jack frowned. She shouldn't be getting a message here at home; the only address she'd registered was the one on her mobile com pad. She glanced around, wondering if she was really, truly alone. She jumped up and pushed open the curtain that separated the bathing room from the rest of the apartment, then the curtain to the tiny shower cubicle. No one.

Still unsettled, she sat back down and clicked on the message. It was a ship manifest for the _Brizo_, a cargo ship leaving the system in three days. She scanned the list of names, but didn't recognize any. Another message popped up, soon after the first. Inside was a full set of ident docs, with her photo and the name of Julienne Allegra, and a ticket under that same name. She checked back at the manifest; Julienne Allegra was listed as a passenger from Ladon 5 all the way to New Hellas, the ship's final destination.

A third message popped up:

_Nyx,_

_Enclosed is a ticket for passage on the Brizo. It leaves at 0400 hours standard time. Just for boarding the ship and listening to my offer, I will transfer one million credits into the account of your choice. If you choose to take the job, a further four million credits will be transfered into your account at the completion of the job._

_Erebus_

Jack blinked and read the message again. No one had ever connected her hacker identity to this address, and the thought that she'd been that careless was extremely worrisome. She'd never heard of anyone using the nick 'Erebus' in any hacker circles, and a million creds just to meet someone seemed too good to be true. Besides, it was almost two AM, only two hours before the _Brizo_ departed. That was barely enough time to make it down to the docking sector, let alone make a decision. Jack didn't like the sound of this, not at all.

She cocked her head and held her breath. A strange silence had descended on the building. In the months she'd lived in this apartment, the ghetto streets had always teemed with noise, even in the dead of night. Her heart started beating faster, and her instincts were on high alert. "Damn," she whispered.

Moving quickly and silently, with the ease of long practice, she plugged her com pad into the computer, and quickly downloaded all her vital info into it. After a brief pause, she added the ident papers and ticket Erebus had sent her. With a few quick keystrokes, she triggered the self-destruct program she'd installed as soon as she'd set up her system. Within 180 seconds, every trace that Jack had ever used the system, or even that she existed, would be wiped permanently from the memory.

While the computer shut down, she scooped up the few personal items she'd acquired during her stay on Ladon 5, along with her set of lock picks and a few sets of clothes and shoved them into a nondescript traveling bag. She looked around once more, and, satisfied she wasn't leaving behind anything that could connect her to this apartment, she shouldered her bag and went to the window. A hammer lay on the window sill, the selfsame hammer she'd used to nail this window shut when she'd moved in. Jack wedged the claw under the head of the nails, one-by-one, and pulled them out. When they were all free, she yanked the window open and swung out, dropping a few feet onto the fire escape.

Jack looked around, trying to figure out what had caused the strange silence. There were no bums hanging around the alley, no wannabe gangsters lounging on the corner. She felt a shiver crawl up her spine. Something big was about to go down, and she sure as hell wasn't going to be hanging around when it happened. She clambered up the fire escape ladder, cursing the clanging of the rusty metal. She swung her bag up onto the roof and climbed up after it, dropping to her stomach.

From her perch on the edge of the roof, Jack peered down at the street. A black sedan rolled up slowly, and parked in front of her building, followed by a van. The back door of the van opened, and several men dressed in black fatigues spilled out. Each was wearing a bulletproof vest and helmet and carrying an automatic weapon. Using the same hand signals militaries used the galaxy over, they separated, three men running to the back door, and four taking the main entrance. Even though the building was home to more than one criminal, she doubted that many of them rated a full-scale tactical assault.

As soon as the men entered the building, Jack stood up and started toward the other edge of the roof. This part of the city was old, and the building were close together, close enough the she had no trouble hopping from roof to roof. Once she felt she was far enough away, she made her way back to the street and headed toward the docking sector. Her time on this planet was clearly over, and the _Brizo_ wouldn't wait for her.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: I am updating this as I go, and writing both from home, and from my office computer. Therefore, I KNOW I have some continuity issues. If you see one (e.g. The three days vs four hours departure time for the Brizo, which I know about), please feel free to drop me a line in a review or message. Once I've uploaded five or so chapters, I plan on going back and fixing certain things.

Also, I have officially lost large chunks of this chapter twice now, which is quite frustrating. Sorry it's taken so long; ideally I'd like to put out a chapter (~1000 words) twice a week.

—

The docking sector wasn't a far walk from Jack's neighborhood, but to ensure she wasn't followed, she took the most circuitous route she could, doubling back on her own trail several times. She was fairly sure no one had seen her leave through the window, but experience—and Riddick—had taught her there was no such thing as 'too careful.' She reached the sector with a little over an hour to spare before the Brizo took off.

Dockworkers, spacers, and the occasional space rat milled about in the pre-dawn chill. Jack held her bag close to her body, eyeing the hungry looking children with distrust. Though she was sympathetic to their plight having been one herself years ago, she wasn't about to let one of them snatch her things. The edges of the sector were the most dangerous parts, and Jack fingered the handle of one of her knives for reassurance. The ground beneath her boots was dirt, pounded firm by years of booted feet and heavy machinery. Here and there a few blades of grass struggled to survive the harsh conditions, seeking the warmth of Ladon system's pale sun.

Whoever had chosen this ship as a covert meeting place knew what he or she was doing. It was a medium sized ship that was clearly refurbished: the metal of the hull was mismatched, though intact, and the bolts looked shiny and new. Its registration number was preceded by 'DELNH,' signifying its home port of Delos, New Hellas. The door to the cargo bay was wide open, and spacers and dock workers were loading wooden crates up the large gangway and stacking them inside. A fold-out railing separated the passenger's entrance from the main cargo bay, and a man, stood nearby with a com pad in hand. Jack knew from the manifest she'd been sent that the passenger quarters would be sparsely populated; the Brizo, like many cargo ships its size, took on passengers for extra cash, not as a primary undertaking. Three or four paying passengers could allow the captain to take on an extra crew member for a short voyage, or simple pocket the extra creds.

Jack watched the operation for a few moments, then slipped away to conceal herself next to a large outbuilding. She pulled out her com pad and with a few taps, had hacked into the ship's computer. Most small, privately-owned ships' computer systems were poorly secured, and the passenger information least of all. She easily added an extra

passenger: Leona Cartwright, an alias she'd created several months ago but not yet used. Out of an abundance of caution and as a way to keep her skills honed, Jack always carried several sets of ident docs on her com pad, both ones she'd used before and clean ones. It never hurt to be extra prepared, and if there was ever a time to go incognito, this was it.

Jack quickly looked over Leona's details, committing the most pertinent to memory. Once they were firm in her mind, she set the small computer to show only that identity, hiding the rest of her files behind a firewall program she'd written herself. It was now nearly 0330, and the Brizo would be lifting off soon. She stowed her com pad away and started running in place. Once she'd worked up a sweat and was out of breath, she rocketed around the corner of the building and up to the passenger entrance of the ship.

"Cartwright, Leona," she offered to the man checking in passengers.

Covering up a lie with exertion was a dirty trick, one that was as effective as it was old. Jack didn't usually resort to such measures, but she didn't want to get caught before she even boarded.

The man started scrolling through a list on his com pad, and Jack took the pause to study him. He was tall, and older than her—though chronological age was impossible to tell with spacer that spent time in cryo. Like most private spacers, he didn't wear a uniform, only a pair of dirty cargo pants and a black tee shirt. He had the lean build of someone who had grown up on short rations, and the hungry, hard eyes of a man who would do almost anything to keep it from happening again. Jack knew that look: she saw it reflected in the mirror every day. It made her instantly glad she'd taken the time to work herself up, since a man like this one was probably quite adept at spotting cheats and liars.

He finally looked up, squinting at her. His chin was roughened by dark stubble, but in spite of his rough edges—or maybe because of them—he was good looking. "Baggage?" Jack shook her head and held up her small travel bag. All she had with her were two changes of clothes, an extra pair of boots, her com pad, and a whetstone for her knives. She'd always been a light traveler, and her time with Riddick had simply reinforced old habits. "Passenger quarters and the galley are on deck two," he informed her, his tone implying he'd said this all several times before. "Cargo deck is off limits except for loading and unloading. Your ticket includes three meals a day, at 0700, 1200, and 1800, and we don't wait around. You're paid up through New Hellas, but if you decide to disembark at a prior stop you don't get a refund. Any other questions?" When Jack shook her head 'no,' he motioned for her to go on. "We take off at 0400. There are extra safety seats in the galley, and you need to be strapped in before we break atmo."

Jack hurried up the ramp and into the cargo bay, keeping to the edges to avoid the crates that had already been loaded. The hollow sound of boots on metal grating echoed around her as she made her way to the second deck. The Brizo was small enough that it only had two, the lower, cargo deck, and the upper deck that housed the crew, the galley, and the cockpit. The galley was a small affair with all the cooking appliances and surfaces concentrated in one end, and a long, communal table down the center. There were no chairs, only a few benches that were fastened down to the solid metal floor. Several safety seats were bolted to the floor opposite the cooking area.

Jack's theory about the ship being retrofitted to carry passengers gained more evidence: the belts on each were a slightly different color, and several of them were older models, as if they each came from a different ship.

"Ms. Cartwright?" A voice behind her caused her to turn suddenly. The man standing in the center of the galley was about Jack's height and heavy around the middle. His dark hair was shot through with gray, and he wore jeans and a clean but worn button-down shirt. His voice carried an air of authority, and Jack pinned him as the captain even before he introduced himself as such. "We're taking off very soon, and it seems you're the only passenger boarding here. The pilot and myself will be in the cockpit, but the other two crew members will be here in the galley with you until we break atmo."

Jack nodded, then cocked her head to the side, quizzically. "Was there supposed to be another passenger?"

The captain nodded. "But she paid in advance, so it's no skin off my nose." He smiled. "Will you need help with the straps?" When Jack shook her head, he moved past her and toward the cockpit. "It'll take about ten minutes to get the ship ready for take-off, so if you'd like to drop your stuff off in your dorm—" He trailed off as Jack shook her head. "All right, I'll see you once we break atmo."

Jack thanked him and settled into for take-off.


End file.
